


striking, stunning

by unicyclehippo



Series: Blue Girls Have The Most Fun [12]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:42:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21717082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unicyclehippo/pseuds/unicyclehippo
Summary: prompt request: "In my defence, I thought this would go a lot more smoothly."or, someone called this a competency kink fic &, like, shut the fuck up maybe
Relationships: Jester Lavorre/Beauregard Lionett
Series: Blue Girls Have The Most Fun [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1824289
Comments: 4
Kudos: 226





	striking, stunning

‘Don’t panic. Do _not_ panic, Jester. It’s just a teeny tiny jail cell, okay, nothing we haven’t broken out of before—do _not_ fucking panic!’

‘I’m not panicking, Nott.’

‘You’re not?’

‘No, silly,’ she laughs. ‘The others will get us out. I sent Beau a message when they caught us.’ She flops down onto the bunk—big mistake, dust puffing up dank and musty around her—and settles her petticoat, kicks out her feet. Nott scrambles up next to her, face a picture of mistrust and apprehension.

‘You sent Beau a message?’

‘Mhm.’

‘To get us out?’

‘Well, I mean, _all_ of them will _probably_ help,’ Jester points out.

‘Good. Because, I love Beau, really, but _giiiiiirl_ , she is not good at talking to people! She has a very aggressive demeanour, very off putting.’

Jester frowns down at Nott. ‘I don’t think that’s true!’

‘Well, no, she’s soft to _you_ ,’ Nott allows. ‘But to everyone else?’ Nott shivers. ‘Awful.’

‘Nott,’ Jester laughs, ‘that’s not true! Beau is…she’s a little rough sometimes, maybe, a little rude, but she’s really very kind.’

Nott blinks big golden eyes disbelieving. ‘She choked out a child.’

Jester rolls her eyes. ‘Just a _little_ bit.’

‘Hmm.’

Her co-detective and partner in crime settles down next to her in what looks to be a very uncomfortable position, her long legs capped with knobbly knees nearly up around her ears twitching thoughtfully. Nott bares needle like teeth when a rat scurries across their cell but other than that, she sits still and silent. Jester doesn’t much feel like talking so she brings her own legs up onto the bunk and snuggles as much as she can into her short cloak, wrapping her tail in a tight coil. And together, they wait to be rescued.

//

Rescue doesn’t come with a boom of thunder or the crash of falling stone. Instead, it comes with the _tap tap tap_ of boots and a stick on the stone-paved floor.

‘—be suitably punished, I _assure_ you! Trespass and vandalisation of private property—and a temple no less—is taken very seriously by the Crownsguard.’ This voice Jester recognises as Crownsguard Markus, the guard who had cuffed her and brought her in. He sounds over eager and, since Jester flings herself to the bars to peek out, looks strained and tall, like he’s trying to impress whoever is with him. Jester can’t make out his companion; she can only see the swish of a blue cloak now and again. But when they speak…

‘I’m certain that it is,’ replies a voice that manages, somehow, to sound just a shade shy of actually being certain. ‘I’ve been examining the history of crime in this area—it looks as though you have been cracking down on serious crime.’

‘Yes, Expositor, absolutely.’

‘I am impressed,’ Beau says, and Jester almost giggles, seeing the way the much older man lights up at her words. ‘Regardless, the Cobalt Soul has been searching for these two for quite some time…’

‘Oh. Oh, I see.’

Beau is now within Jester’s view, the pair of them having walked nearly to the centre of this small holding area. They stand by the desk, where the ledger of arrests is, and Jester can see the Crownsguard fiddling with the keys on his belt, clearly uncertain. He can’t hold her attention for long, however, because next to him… Beau is wearing her Expositor’s regalia, and not in the eager, sloppy way she had tried it on that first time it had been gifted to her. She wears it now like it truly was made for her, like it is the least thing about her that marks her as Expositor. It sits perfectly over her shoulders, the finery catching the low lantern light. Her hair has been brushed and slicked up into a perfect topknot, and two blue ear drops hang from her lobes. Her makeup has been stripped and reapplied, sharp lines of kohl winging out from her lids, understated and giving her a somewhat hawkish appearance that is only compounded by her composure: smooth and officially stern, lit with faint interest and curiosity and, if not pleasant than certainly not unpleasant regard of the Crownsguard as he hesitates.

‘Perhaps,’ she suggests, smooth and not at all hurried or nervous, ‘we can come to some arrangement. You, of course, should have credit for catching them. The Soul has good relations here and I would not like to…upset that.’

Jester’s breath catches in her throat, delight soaring through her like she has watched a beautiful performance. Beau sets emphasise so delicately, so wondrously, that the Crownsguard can’t help but hear the implicit warning—he had better not upset their good relations by denying her.

‘No, no, of course not Expositor. A reward isn’t necessary, I was just doing my job,’ he assures her and hurries to find the key, making his way over to the cell.

Jester scrambles back into the back of the cell.

‘Is that _Beau_?’ Nott whispers.

‘I know!’ Jester wriggles all the way down to the tip of her tail. ‘Focus,’ she hisses then, only partly to Nott. ‘Pretend to be upset.’

‘Ooh, should we pretend to hate Beau?’

‘Oh definitely.’

Nott winks, settles into a low crouch beneath the bunk as the Crownsguard and Beau approach.

‘Get up,’ Markus commands gruffly. ‘You’re being transferred to the watch of the Cobalt Soul, for transfer to—‘ He glances sideways to Beau.

She gives litte sign of recognition upon seeing Jester, but looks a little confused, searching clearly for Nott. ‘Zadash,’ she tells him absently. ‘There was a second one, wasn’t there?’

As if on cue, Nott throws herself out from under the bunk, screaming and rattling at the bars. ‘You’ll never take me alive!’ she screams. ‘I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!’

Markus flinches, reaching for his sword.

Beau shakes her head. ‘Don’t bother,’ she tells him. And then, turning to Nott, says with a disturbing amount of truth to the words, ‘I’ve been wanting to do this for a _very_ long time.’ Her fist lashes out, through the bars, and connects fully with the side of Nott’s neck, and Jester watches as Nott seizes up with a gurgle, stunned.

‘Oh wow,’ Markus mutters.

Beau nods. ‘Unlock the cell.’

‘What about the other one?’ He clearly doesn’t notice that Nott has slowly recovered, now only pretending to be frozen.

Beau looks to Jester and her blue eyes seem to _burn_ in the low light. ‘She’ll be fine,’ Beau murmurs.

The guard nods. Unlocks the cell door.

Jester nods as well. Hopes Beau can read in her eyes that she is, that she is fine. Especially now.

Beauregard steps into the frame, sideways so that her back is to the guard and Jester and Nott can step past. She holds out two slips of blue cloth Jester recognise as having been torn from an old vest. Jester holds out her wrists and Beau binds the cloth like cuffs, knots it carefully.

‘Cloth?’

‘Magical,’ Beauregard lies to the guard. ‘It will suppress their magic and keep them within a certain distance of me.’

‘Whoa. That’s, that’s really impressive, Expositor.’

Beau nods. Reaching into her pocket, she takes out a small pouch. ‘I know you said no reward, but I insist. For your good work.’

She leads them out of the guard post, Nott and Jester following meekly—after a hissed “Act meek, you two” from Beau—and into the street. When they turn the second corner, Beau waiting to be sure no one was in sight that would recognise the pair, she finally relaxes and unties their hands.

‘What the fuck, guys? You said you were going shopping!’

‘We may have gotten a little distracted,’ Nott tells her.

‘May have? You vandalised Erathis’s spire!’

Nott responds with some cutting comment, as she does, and Beau falls for it, sending one right back. As the two argue, Jester searches this face for her Beau and finds unfamiliar parts of her in it—absolute confidence beyond her usual swaggering arrogance, a grace in the lines of her makeup, the swoop of her hair, and a deep unwavering protectiveness she always, always knew was there but has come now to the surface.

‘What do you have to say for yourself, Jester?’ Beau snaps. Despite the words, her tone is just exasperated and perhaps a little amused, mostly cranky for Nott’s benefit.

Jester skips forward, plants a kiss on a suddenly unmoving Beau’s cheek. ‘Thank you for coming to get us,’ she says, and smiles brightly. ‘Maybe next time, you can be our lookout.’

**Author's Note:**

> hi im unicyclehippo on tumblr as well, feel free to swing on by & say hi or send me a prompt x


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